Miles In The Snow
by aveybear
Summary: Cullen Rutherford has always put his duty before anything else, but those two paths are beginning to cross... (A small drabble of Cullen carrying Lavellan back to Skyhold)


Ramathe Lavellan. The name hadn't left Cullen's mind since he first saw her and first saw the wonderful tree tattoo that twisted its way around her face in beautiful spirals. At first, the commander could see only the savior of Thedas, the Herald of Andraste who would save them all from this impending war…But then he saw her practically frozen solid, making her way towards their camps. He and Cassandra were the first people to react, to see dark clothes against the snow, and Cullen remembers thanking the maker she wasn't wearing a snow walker coat. With her pale skin and white hair, he doesn't doubt for a second that they never would have found her. But they did, _thank the maker_, they did.

The second he found her, hip deep in snow, her pointed ears blue at the tips, Cullen dropped to his knees and wrapped his cloak around her shivering frame. As soon as he finished bundling her, unable to stop himself from thinking of how much like a baby she looked, Cullen lifted her into his arms. Without the cover of the furs around his shoulders, the commander shivered against the wind but knowing Ramathe was shielded from the cold that had nearly killed her made it bearable.

Cassandra ran ahead of them, yelling for a "a healer, makers breath we need a _HEALER NOW! _Move faster, the Herald's life is in our hands!" and something caught inside of Cullen's throat. The Herald was important, the symbol of the Inquisition, but Cullen had not even thought of that when he saw her silhouette against the snow. He thought only of Ramathe, of her safety. All he wanted was to think of her as a simple soldier, an invaluable piece of this war game that they could not afford to lose, nothing more than an asset. As her carried her through the snow, though, the chattering of her teeth and the quakes of her small frame broke off a piece of his heart. He needed to stop caring so deeply for people he barely even know, or the young man would have no heart left.

Cullen reached the came, frost thick on his face and hair, and Ramathe was immediately taken from him. Two healers grabbed either side of her and Cullen's arms felt too light without the weight of the elven woman in his arms. He cursed himself for this. As Ramathe was pulled away from him, a groan of protest escaped her half frozen lips. The commander forced the smile that teased his lips into a concerned line, a neutrality that he did not feel he would be able to hold up for much longer.

They wouldn't let him near her for hours. He sat with Cassandra, Leliana and a few soldiers that he was too busy fretting to learn the names of. He prayed for a while, closing his eyes and whispering the chant of light into the open air. Every once and a while, a healer would break the strangled silences of the group with an update. Some made Cullen sigh with relief, and others gently reminded the advisors that there was a high possibility that "The Herald will be reunited with the Maker." Cullen couldn't help but scowl every time they used those words. Her name was Ramathe not "The Herald". He knew how much she hated it, how much she hated people that thought she was Andrastian. Cullen believed in Andraste and the maker, there was no doubting that, but he didn't force his religion on others, and knowing that the healers didn't think she would go to her own Dalish Gods, or rather, knowing they didn't tell _her_ she was, but shoved Andraste down a dying woman's throat…

He must have dozed off at some point, because when he awoke, Cullen saw Ramathe sitting up on her cot. Talking, breathing, _alive. _The young man was surprised at how much relief flowed through him, sending a shiver down his back that had little to do with the piercing cold.

Ramathe Lavellan.

He couldn't help but smile and as everybody began to sing, a sort of hope swelled inside of Cullen and filled up at least some of the holes in his wounded heart.


End file.
